


Five Stars

by phnelt



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Sexual Frustration, Some Fluff, Songwriting, geralt is clueless, mostly on jaskier's side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22457518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phnelt/pseuds/phnelt
Summary: Geralt knows that Jaskier rates their fucks. He just doesn't know Jaskier's criteria.A collection of their 'best times.'
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 67
Kudos: 844





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, idk. I've got three chapters, I'm not planning any extra but then I wasn't planning this either. Some of these chapters are pornier than others.

Geralt pressed his hand against his ribs -- yep, definitely cracked -- as he hauled himself down from Roach. He handed off the reins to a wide-eyed stable boy and walked into the tavern, hoping this was the one. He didn’t think he could face getting back into the saddle. 

He needn’t have worried though. Jaskier was in the corner, singing. 

“The song of the White Wolf will always be -- Geralt?” A drunk man laughed. 

“Hi, Jaskier.” Geralt managed a small wave with his free hand. 

Jaskier was frowning and making his way over, ignoring the general grumbling of some men in the front row. “You’re hurt.” 

*** 

Jaskier hustled Geralt up to his room, a private room, which meant Jaskier must be doing well. He stripped Geralt’s blood soaked clothes off of him, dropping them onto the sawdusted floor with a squelching sound. Geralt winced, but at least not all of the blood was his. 

Then Jaskier was easing Geralt’s undershirt up and off and Geralt hissed -- all of this blood was definitely his and doing its best to stick to his body. But Jaskier was patient and careful and finally got his shirt off off and took a step back to look Geralt over, wincing. 

He knew it wasn’t a good sight, a crowd of alghouls had ambushed him after he’d been finishing up a fight with a Nightwraith. They’d gotten a couple good rakes in and his chest felt like it had been julienned. 

Jaskier got Geralt a towel and hot water and proceeded to carefully dab away the blood and Geralt grit his teeth against asking him to go faster. It was going to hurt like a son of a bitch either way, might as well let Jaskier do his own thing. 

Finally he got enough of it off that he felt comfortable pushing Geralt backwards onto the bed. Jaskier rummaged in his pack for a bit before pulling out a jar. “Aha!” he said, flourishing it. 

“What is it?” 

Jaskier’s smile was wide. “It’s a salve. Very effective, or so I am told. I thought it might come in handy as your travelling companion.” 

Geralt grunted, impressed. That was some forethinking. 

Jaskier scooped some with his fingers and came over to apply it. Geralt braced himself but it felt...good. Soothing. 

He relaxed. 

The wounds were the worst on his left thigh and Jaskier bent over for a closer look, breath hot in all of the places where the salve was not. Despite himself, Geralt felt his dick take an interest. 

When his arousal became undeniable, Jaskier looked up, wiping the last of the salve on his fingers off on Geralt. “Seriously?” 

Geralt tried to shrug. “I have a reaction to seeing your mouth so close to my cock.” 

“Such a sweet talker,” Jaskier muttered. He passed his hand over his eyes. “I’m not going to fuck you while you’re all,” Jaskier waved at Geralt’s body. He knew very well that he looked like a chicken that had been abused before it was slaughtered. 

It didn’t make his cock any less interested. “How about just your hand,” Geralt wheedled. 

Jaskier’s eyes were up in his hairline and Geralt was prepared for a blistering comeback but then Jaskier’s eyebrows snapped down and he said, “Oh, alright,” and grabbed Geralt’s dick with no ceremony. 

_Oh yeah._ Geralt’s toes curled. Jaskier knew how to grab and squeeze. It had took a minute for Geralt to convince Jaskier about just how hard he liked it -- Witcher training had left him with a tolerance that would cause other men to pall, but Jaskier had gotten used to it and now he could work Geralt over just the way he liked. Jaskier’s fist was hot, and tight, like nothing else except for Jaskier’s arse. Nothing compared to that. Thinking about getting to fuck Jaskier again made Geralt’s hips cant up, seeking friction. 

Geralt had forgotten that he couldn’t use any of those muscles without significant pain, however, and he hissed. 

Jaskier’s hand stilled. “Watch yourself, or I’ll have to stop.” There was a gleam in Jaskier’s eye and the corner of his lip was decidedly angled up. 

“You’re enjoying this,” Geralt realised. 

“It’s not every day I have you totally at my mercy.” Jaskier’s hand started moving again, a vicious twist at the end that took Geralt’s breath away. “And yet here you are. I could do anything I wanted to you.” 

Fuck if that wasn’t a thought -- Geralt, spread out, unable to retaliate as Jaskier took him apart. Geralt couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this vulnerable. Jaskier could do _anything --_ and that was the thought that tipped him over, grunting as he spilled all over Jaskier’s hand. 

It didn’t relax him though, somehow he only felt more wound up, an itch underneath the dull throb of bruises. 

“Come on,” Geralt said. 

“I already _told_ you, you look like the inside of a dead moose,” Jaskier began, irritation coming off of him in waves. 

“I can smell how turned on you are, there’s no point in lying to me.” 

Jaskier’s mouth snapped shut. “There’s still the principle --” 

“Just come up here and fuck my mouth, Jaskier.” Geralt rolled his eyes. 

That shut Jaskier up. 

Moving slowly and carefully, Jaskier took off his doublet -- remarkly unstained -- and crawled up the mattress, careful not to jostle Geralt unduly. Bracing his hands on the wall, Jaskier knelt astride Geralt’s head, looking down at him with wide eyes. 

Geralt saw the unspoken question there. 

He answered it with a swipe of his tongue, catching the bead of moisture at the tip of Jaskier’s dick. 

Jaskier’s eyes rolled back a little and his hips jerked forward minutely, enough for Geralt to get his lips around him. After that, Jaskier got the message and started to roll his hips in and out. 

This was easy, barely any work at all. All Geralt had to do was relax, breathe, and let Jaskier move. It wasn’t very long at all before Jaskier was shuddering and thrusting unevenly and Geralt helped him along by hollowing out his cheeks and sucking for all he was worth. Jaskier made a noise like his heart was being punched out of his chest and came. 

Jaskier crawled off of him on shaky legs, collapsing down next to him on the bed. 

“It was certainly a surprise, when you burst in, you were lucky I was there.” 

“Not really,” Geralt said, “I was looking for you. I knew you’d take care of me.” 

Jaskier whipped his head to the side to look at Geralt, hair whispering against the mattress, eyes wide. Geralt wanted to ask what was wrong, but he was feeling a little woozy, so he decided it would wait. 


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt shuddered, hips pressed against Jaskier’s as tight as he could manage. If someone had told him that Jasier, the annoying bard, would be one of the best fucks he’d ever had, he’d have checked them for enchantments or glamours -- and yet, it was true. Tonight, he’d drawn out a moan from Jaskier on every thrust, a sweet, high-pitch sound, and it had only made sense to play with him. Which Geralt did, increasing the speed of his thrusts until Jaskier was whining continuously. Turns out the man could sing, after all. 

He rolled off of Jaskier with a satisfied sigh that wasn’t loud enough to mask the quiet “Wow,” that Jaskier muttered. Geralt felt inclined to agree. It was always good, between them, but tonight, maybe because of the combination of wine, and hearty stew, and no one trying to kill them, it was just a little bit better. 

But even though no one and nothing had tried to kill Geralt today, he still felt the siren call of sleep hitting him strongly now that the drive to fuck had faded a little from his brain. He tried to summon the will to get up and find his trousers. It should be easy, they had to be close by. 

The bed was so comfortable, though. 

It was Jaskier’s, not his, and he had no rights to it. Jaskier had sung for it -- literally; he had played a number of tunes that had knees jiggling and smiles breaking out on the faces of the tavern patrons. And smiling patrons were patrons who drank a lot and didn’t pick fights over payment. 

Geralt tensed his muscles and felt the delicious aftereffects of their activities. He liked being a little sore in his thighs and his stomach, evidence that he had ridden Jaskier hard. If he felt this way then Jaskier had to be feeling it more, which the way Jaskier hadn’t moved at all since Geralt had rolled off of him legs still splayed, but he was smiling. 

That smile went away when Geralt groaned a little and finally managed to sit up a bit, just enough to get an elbow under him. 

“You know,” Jaskier said, tracing the grain of the linen beneath them, an action that was apparently so fascinating it dominated his attention, his eyes trained downwards, following the path of his fingers. Jaskier’s eyelashes cast shadows on his cheekbones. 

When nothing else seemed to be forthcoming, Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. Of course Jaskier couldn’t see it. “What don’t I know?” Geralt asked, and waited for Jaskier to take the easy opening, for Jaskier often teased him of all the things he didn’t know despite his years and experience. He didn’t know what a minor chord was, he didn’t know about the spring fashions, he didn’t know that the capital of Zerrikania had changed last year. 

But Jaskier didn’t make any of the familiar quips. He simply said, “Well, only that the room is paid up til morning.” 

And that was something; too banal of a sentence for the build-up. It demanded further investigation. Geralt hauled himself further up onto his elbow. 

Somehow the motion made Jaskier slump further, which considering he had basically become one with the mattress, was quite the feat. 

Geralt reached out with the hand that wasn’t supporting him and gently tilted Jaskier’s chin up so he could see past the guard of Jaskier’s eyelashes. “Hey,” Geralt said softly. “You want me to stay?” 

Jaskier tried to drop his chin again, but Geralt held him firm. When Jaskier said nothing, Geralt slid his thumb along Jaskier’s lower lip, still just as plump and soft as it had been twenty minutes ago when Geralt had pulled it between his teeth. 

Jaskier shuddered out a breath and Geralt dropped his chin and let his hand drop to Jaskier’s chest. 

“All right, then,” Geralt said and folded back down to the bed. He groped around a little for the blanket, which probably would have been easier if his eyes were open. 

“What?” Jaskier squawked. 

Geralt opened one eye. Jaskier was glaring at him, hair pointing every which way. “Yes?” Geralt wanted to sleep now so he hoped it was important. It was hard to tell with Jaskier sometimes, the man had no sense of proportion. 

“You’re going to stay?” 

“Looks like it,” Geralt said mildly, unsure of what Jaskier was getting at. 

Jaskier puffed out a breath, cheeks deflating like a squirrel going backwards in time. “That’s...good?” 

Geralt opened his other eye, squinting. “Is that a question?” 

“No,” Jaskier repeated, firm. “No, this is good.” The corners of Jaskier’s eyes had crinkled up. Jaskier was going to get wrinkles if he kept that up, which would be bad, so Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s head with both hands, thumbs on his temples, and pulled his head down. He pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s lips, slow, lingering. When they broke apart, he didn’t let go, just sighed against Jaskier’s mouth as their noses rubbed together. Then he pulled Jaskier’s head down, firmly, against his chest. 

“Sleep,” Geralt commanded. 

“But…” Jaskier was pouting and it made Geralt smile. 

“We have all night, right?” 

Jaskier wasn’t aware of it yet, but Geralt was going to make full use of that time. 


	3. Their Best Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already posted an earlier version of this on Tumblr. It's the one that inspired the idea for this fic...and the least emotional one.

Jaskier gasped and Geralt grinned around where he was worrying Jaskier’s nipple with his teeth. Geralt had just completed a long, difficult, lucrative job and he was more than ready to enjoy some ‘I didn’t die this time’ sex. It was one of his favourite kinds. 

“What if--” Jaskier gulped for a breath. “What if I juxtaposed the blackness of the Kikimora with the whiteness of your hair?” 

Geralt pulled back, frowning at Jaskier. “What the--” 

“In the new song cycle I’m writing. What do you think? I was inspired by the fight you had today.” Jaskier had his hands braced on the mattress and was looking down at Geralt, positioned between his legs. One push and Geralt could have him right above his cock. 

Geralt tilted his head to the side. “Kikimora have beady little eyes. They’re very shiny.” Maybe if he played along, Jaskier would get back to the more important task of getting Geralt off. 

“Hmm,” Jaskier said and Geralt could feel the vibration of it against his chest. He would like to feel that vibration other places, thank you very much Jaskier. 

But Jaskier didn’t slide down. Instead he pushed himself out of the bed entirely, bare-assed, and went for his lute. 

Geralt’s heart sank. Looking down at his cock sadly he muttered, “Sorry, this might be a while.” 

*** 

“Yes, yes, YES,” Jaskier cried and Geralt didn’t even look up from where he was oiling his sword. Literally. He had both the steel and silver blades out and was checking them for damage. 

“Don’t you want to hear it?” Jaskier asked, a high, whining note in the back of his voice. 

“Hear what?” Geralt asked, looking down the edge of his blade and deeming it sharp enough. 

“My climax.” Jaskier sounded very pleased with himself. “It’s tasteful, yet graphic.” 

_I bet,_ Geralt thought, trying to imagine anything Jaskier did as tasteful. “Fine,” Geralt said. He didn’t have anything better to do. 

“...and so passed the scourge of the land, driven out by fair Geralt’s hand.” 

The strings of Jaskier’s lute rang out before fading into silence. 

“Not bad,” Geralt admitted. 

Jaskier was incensed, glaring at Geralt. “Not bad? This is my magnum opus! This song will outlast our children, and our children’s children. ‘Sing us Jaskier’s song!’ will be the cry heard around the land.” 

Geralt threw his hands in the air. “It was very good, all right?” 

“Well, why didn’t you say that?” Jaskier was panting, tongue darting out to moisten the corners of his lips and he was still shirtless, and it occurred to Geralt that this evening might still go according to plan. 

“I was...overcome,” Geralt said, and edged closer to Jaskier. His sounded unconvincing, but Jaskier seemed to eat it up, his eyes going hooded and dark. 

“By which part?” Jaskier was swaying towards Geralt. 

“The way you rhymed ‘lord’ with ‘fjord’ was really special.” 

Jaskier purred, reaching for the laces on Geralt’s shirt. “That was clever of me.” 

“So clever,” Geralt agreed, helping Jaskier by shrugging himself out of his clothing. 

“Tell me again.” 

“I liked it.” 

Jaskier swooned and Geralt slid his hand between Jaskier’s shoulder blades to steady him, bringing their bodies closer together. Geralt could feel the heat radiating off of Jaskier and his own skin was cold everywhere they weren’t touching. 

“Again.” 

“It was good.” 

Jaskier moaned, a long drawn out noise that Geralt wanted to last forever. Geralt bit Jaskier’s jaw, sucking on the skin, driving Jaskier wild as he pulled out a pleasing melody from Jaskier. 

“This is wonderful,” Jaskier said, and then threw cold water all over Geralt by climbing off of him. Again. “I must perform this immediately.” Jaskier took two steps away from the bed and Geralt bit back a scream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toss a kudo to your writer/and comments a'plenty/oh oh oh
> 
> I'm routerdecomposer on tumblr. I can't promise to fill a prompt but random stuff does inspire me so if you think I missed a Best Time, a true 5/5, you can let me know. I know, nothing can top Geralt actually caring about Jaskier's creative process, but who knows.

**Author's Note:**

> Toss a comment!
> 
> This fic can be reblogged on Tumblr:[here](https://tmblr.co/ZD3Daw2nYGRnA)


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